Anna and the Demons
by Saltwater Romance
Summary: It definitely did not—and I repeat did not—start with me dancing naked around a fire made out of toad skin and spider legs and all of the other vile things you people keep conjuring up! Ew. And don't even start imagining me naked you pervs!


**Anna and the Demons  
** By Saltwater Romance **  
**

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 **Prologue**

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Contrary to popular belief, it did not happen one dark moon-eclipsed night on the sixth day of the sixth month. It did not begin with a clap of thunder or with candles forming a pentagon. It definitely did not—and I repeat **did not** —start with me dancing naked around a fire made out of toad skin and spider legs and all of the other vile things you people keep conjuring up! _Ew._ And don't even start imagining me naked you pervs!

 _Anyway_. It all started one lazy Sunday afternoon while I was holed up in my apartment, practicing my handwriting because after three—yes _three_!—people thought I had written 102 tablespoons of sugar instead of 10 and put it into the tomato sauce at work, I thought that _maybe_ it was time for me to fix my penmanship before we lost any more customers.

But I digress.

I was humming in the kitchen, fixing myself a _(vegetarian)_ meatball sub. It came out perfectly; I used my secret killer tomato sauce recipe, which took 2 hours to complete. I used fresh baby bellos from the local farmers' market downtown. I refrigerated the mushroom paste overnight in order to achieve the most delicious and savory fake meatball consistency. I slaved in the kitchen for hours, perfecting my beautiful sandwich. _This_ was the start to the brand new chapter in my life. Not dancing naked around a fire and chanting gibberish during a full moon. _This_.

The part that I messed up on? I was having fun with my bread (homemade thank you very much) and was drawing silly little **random** patterns on it with the tomato sauce before I poured the meatballs into it. **That** was my fatal mistake; I had accidentally drawn an ancient summoning symbol for demons.

Not just any ole demon, but one in particular. He was known for being a devious trickster; he was the one who was often summoned when someone needed revenge. He was well-known in ancient times as people feared his punishments. His name, you may recognize, is Kokoro Yomi. His summoning call? It was a star with a smiley face in the center. Yeah, it was totally _my_ fault-insert eye-roll.

After I had drawn the smiley face, a puff of smoke appeared in my living room. I heard a loud _thunk_ , a lot of coughing, and a groan, "It's been _centuries_ since I've had to do this."

I kept the butter knife in my trembling hand as I approached my living room cautiously. I peered over the door frame, and lo and behold, a man with sandy hair plopped on my rug. Did I mention he also had two little horns on the top of his head? Yeah, I was standing there, shocked and frozen because _this was not a man_! Apparently, the knife clattered to the floor since he then turned to face me with an annoyed expression on his face, "You need to close your mouth. I can smell your breath from here, and I have one word for you: peee-uuuuu!"

I inelegantly opened and shut my mouth repeatedly.

He sighed, stood up, and brushed his pants, "Well. What do you want from me? No one has been able to call on me for centuries. I had gotten used to a world away from you pesky humans. Now, out with it. Who do you want me to hurt?"

All I could do at this point was stare at him, "You have horns…"

"Yes," he began in a slow patronizing tone, "And…? You already know I'm a demon. You summoned me."

"I… wait... _WHAT_!?" I screeched, trying to break out of this daze. This has to be a dream, right, "You are a _WHAT_?!"

He rolled his eyes and muttered loathingly, " _Humans_."

He glanced past me, and suddenly his eyes lit up, "Is that a sandwich I smell?"

I nod wordlessly.

He nearly ran me over on his way to the kitchen.

"Ooooh! A meatball sub?!" he eagerly exclaimed. He lifted the ladle to spoon the meatballs into the bread.

His eyes closed as he let out a moan, "Wow. This is so good. Do you have any parmesan?"

I went to the fridge and wordlessly handed him the block of cheese.

"Cheese grater?"

I handed that to him too. I watched as he grated the cheese on top of his sandwich. He kept making all these sexual noises as he scarfed it down. I couldn't do anything besides watch him—a little fascinated, but mostly terrified.

He was chewing on his third sandwich by the time I realized that he had eaten _everything_. Literally, he had eaten all the meatballs and the bread and the expensive piece of 24 month aged parmesan. All I had left was a bit of tomato sauce still at the bottom of the pot.

He licked the sauce from his thumb and grinned at me with dazzling white teeth, "Thanks."

Then he vanished the way he came—in a cloud of smoke.

I stared in disbelief at where he used to stand.

Demon or not, he just ate my _entire_ lunch. The lunch that I spent _forever_ making. And there was _nothing_ left!

I grabbed my hair and screamed.

What a jerk!

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 **Author's Note:** Inspiration from the sandwich demon tumblr post (you can just that word for word and it will take you to that post).


End file.
